Focus on the Pain
by Lia76
Summary: Sam faces self-hatred & doubt while struggling to understand his role in the demon war. Will new revelations help or hinder him when a seal is in jeopardy and how will Dean react? Warning: Self-harm. Follows season 4 episode "Jump the Shark."
1. Chapter 1

**Focus on the Pain**

After he was sure Dean was asleep, Sam slipped past his older brother's bed and into the small bathroom of their motel room, locking the door behind him. He flipped on the light switch and carefully peeled off the bandages that his brother had applied before tossing them into the trashcan. Sam studied the area where the two now dead ghouls had repeatedly slashed his wrists and forearms. The wounds were ugly, but they would heal. Sam thought about Dean saying that if he had lost any more blood, he would have had no choice but to take Sam to the emergency room. Their half brother Adam and his mom hadn't been so lucky. Adam and his mom were...

"Dead," Sam said it out loud, his voice echoing slightly off of the tiled walls.

He traced the closed wounds with his finger. Sam felt so angry at himself, not because the ghouls got the drop on him, but because not one thing he had taught Adam, who had really been the ghoul the whole time, not one word, had mattered. The ghoul had just been playing him, waiting to get him alone. Sam didn't know how he could have been so…

"Stupid," Sam finished his thought out loud and paused to listen to the reprimanding sounding echo.

He was also ashamed that with all of the power he thought the demon blood gave him, he couldn't get free once the two ghouls tied him up and started carving. Instead, he had needed Dean, whom he had mostly written off as a liability since returning from hell, to save him. He owed his big brother a whopper of an apology, but Dean had cut him off every time he tried to tell him…

"Sorry," He didn't blame Dean though. He didn't deserve much of anything anymore, much less his brother's forgiveness.

Although he was not sure why, Sam began to pick and pull at the stitches on his right wrist and forearm until blood started to leak from the reopened wounds into the white porcelain sink, hissing at the burning pain. Sam remembered how the female ghoul had said that his blood tasted different. He had hated to hear her say that, even though he knew it was true. Tears of frustration sprang to his eyes. Sam quickly wiped them away, not noticing that he smeared blood on his cheeks in the process. He next turned his attention to picking and pulling at his stitches on his other wrist and forearm until they too started to trickle red into the sink. After a few minutes, Sam lowered himself to the floor, suddenly tired of standing. He rested his arms, wrists up, on his thighs and continued to watch the blood trickle onto the floor. The wall he was leaning against felt cold and hard against his bare back, but he didn't move. He didn't want to be comfortable.

Sam next thought about Dean saying that he was just like Dad. He wished he was more like Dad at that moment. Maybe then he would know what the hell to do. Should he stop drinking Ruby's blood to build up his abilities? But without it, how could he possibly be enough to beat Lilith? Sam had so many questions and no one to turn to. Dean had the angels to help him. They already told Dean he was the one to stop the apocalypse. Dean knew what he was supposed to do. Sam didn't know how or _if_ he figured into all of it.

Feelings of rage and hopelessness flooded into Sam and he began to pound the floor in front of him. Pain exploded in his knuckles and his wrists burned. Sam's heart pounded as his blood splattered the shiny tile and floor. It felt good to focus on the pain and the blood, as they pushed the difficult thoughts and feelings aside for the moment. However, after a few minutes of the new found relief, a banging on the other side of the door broke his attention.

"Sam! What the hell is going on in there? Open the door!" Dean demanded.

Sam looked around the bathroom and then down at his painfully throbbing and bloody arms and knuckles. He took in some deep breaths in an attempt to get his breathing and heart rate back under control, ignoring Dean who had started to pound on the door again.

"I'm busy!" Sam yelled, making no attempt to move. He didn't want to leave the windowless room just yet. He didn't want to face Dean.

"You come out or I'm coming in," Dean stated through the door.

Sam stood and took a step to the sink to wash his hands. He laughed when he almost slipped on some of his blood, even though he wasn't sure how that was funny.

Sam gave up on cleaning up and opened the door. He watched as Dean's face turned from one of anger to one of confusion.

"Sam," Dean whispered in awe of Sam's condition and the state of the bathroom.

Sam pushed past his brother and unsteadily sat on the edge of the bed. Without another word, Dean sat down next to Sam a few moments later and began to dress Sam's wounds. Sam waited for Dean to start yelling, to call him crazy. It didn't happen. Sam yanked out of Dean's gentle grasp, not wanting to feel better, not wanting for the visibility of the wounds to heal. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Dean sighed.

"Me or the ER. Take your pick," Dean said.

After a moment, Sam moved his arms back toward Dean. While Dean did his work, Sam studied a crack in the wall across from them.

"Did doing this make you feel better?" Dean asked as he finished bandaging his right arm.

"For awhile," Sam answered honestly. Although Sam could see that his hands were still shaking, the adrenaline was gone and with it any relief from the depression and hopelessness. He felt like crying again.

Dean nodded and put a damp towel into Sam's hands. Sam looked down at it confused. He hadn't noticed Dean get up to grab one from the bathroom.

"Wipe the blood off your face," Dean instructed.

"You know what?" Sam began after he finished cleaning his face.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I think maybe I _am_ jealous of Adam," Sam said while he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain.

"Because Dad treated him like a normal kid," Dean guessed.

"No," Sam answered as he looked out the window at the night sky. "Because _he_ gets to be in a better place. He doesn't have to think about anything anymore."

"You're scaring me, Sammy," Dean responded.

"Well, it's about _damn_ time," Sam said.

**The End**

**Thanks for reading. I may return to this story at a later time, but I have too many other unfinished stories at the moment. **


	2. Chapter 2

_**Then...**_

_"You know what?" Sam began after he finished cleaning his face._

_"What?" Dean asked._

_"I think maybe I am jealous of Adam," Sam said while he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain._

_"Because Dad treated him like a normal kid," Dean guessed._

_"No," Sam answered as he looked out the window at the night sky. "Because he gets to be in a better place. He doesn't have to think about anything anymore."_

_"You're scaring me, Sammy," Dean responded._

_"Well, it's about damn time," Sam said._

_**Now...**_

**Chapter 2**

"So, what…I'm supposed to fear you now? Hate you? Maybe so much that I kill you? Is that it?" Dean asked as he shook his head in disbelief. "Give me some credit, Sammy. NEVER gonna happen."

"Do you hear yourself?! _Never_ gonna happen? No matter what? Not even if I'm the anti-Christ?" Sam asked.

"Oh please!" Dean yelled. "I wish YOU would listen to yourself if you can bear to take a break from your pity party!"

"I guess you would know a thing or two about pity parties, huh?" Sam shot back before almost instantly regretting it when he saw his brother's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't...I didn't mean to compare _anything_ I'm going through to your time in Hell-."

"Shut…up," Dean growled before snatching his jacket off of the nearby chair. "I'm glad I sleep in my clothes now. It's good for quick getaways from the cops, demons, or jack ass little brothers."

Dean stormed out without another word, slamming the door behind him.

"Damn it!" Sam yelled before putting his bandaged fist through the wall.

_**An hour later…**_

"Hey, Sam," Ruby said with a smile as she strolled into the brothers' motel room. "Where's Dean? Couldn't make it? Oh, too bad. I'm sure he sends me his love?"

Sam didn't answer and instead watched her eyes glance from his face, to his bandaged hands and arms, to the hole in the wall, and then back to his face.

"Or maybe you finally killed him off? Once and for all?" Ruby asked as she sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her.

"Funny. He's…taking a walk," Sam explained, not wishing to rehash his and Dean's earlier argument. "I need more blood."

"Already?" Ruby inquired as she straddled his lap in one quick motion, picking up on Sam's wish to change the subject. She knew Dean was off limits after more than one joke or jab. "You just had a fill up a few days ago. Not that I'm complaining. I like our time together."

"I was attacked by a couple of ghouls. Bled me after tying me up," Sam explained as he absently ran his hand down her back before she cut him off.

"You didn't need to let that happen," Ruby said as moved on to kissing his neck.

"What the hell are you talking about? I was tied up!" Sam said angrily, pushing her off and standing.

"Jeez. Warn a girl," Ruby said as she stood as well and smoothed her shirt and jacket. "I've told you before. You are capable of so more than you realize."

"I don't understand. What I can do only works on killing or damning demons. Look, can I have more blood or not?" Sam asked, annoyed now.

"I can prove it," Ruby said with another sly smile. "_If _you let me and if you _allow_ it."

Sam sighed.

"Just show me already," Sam said.

"Okay. Just remember. You said I could," Ruby answered.

In another quick motion, she pulled something out of her jacket and jammed it toward him. Sam gasped as incredible pain pierced his chest. He looked down, red blooming out from his shirt. Sam looked back up at Ruby who was stepping away from him now, the silver knife in her hand dripping crimson onto the dark threadbare carpet.

Sam again looked down at his chest, dumbfounded. His breathing began to increase as the blood flowed out of him from the seemingly fatal looking wound. He should put pressure on the wound...he should call Dean...he should...he should...

"What-," Sam managed to gasp before staggering and falling to the floor. "You…you.._stabbed_ me?!"

"Look at me Sam!" Ruby yelled.

Sam did as he was told and fixed his now hazy vision on the dark haired woman.

"Why?" Sam whispered before his breath began to gurgle with blood. He coughed and blood sprayed the carpet in front of him. The pain was _unbearable _and he couldn't help but start to moan.

"Fix it! _Will_ it to be so!" Ruby yelled.

Sam slumped back against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to pull in more air, not understanding what Ruby wanted him to do. Was this the same as when he was stabbed by Jake? He never did remember much from that night...

"DO IT NOW!" Ruby yelled. "FOCUS AND HEAL YOURSELF!"

Ruby's yelling snapped Sam's attention back to reality and he decided to try to follow her instruction. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his body the best that he could. On his body healing itself. A moment later, the pain abruptly stopped. Sam, his hands trembling with fear rather than pain now, lifted up his blood stained shirt. His chest was unmarred! In disbelief, Sam ran his hand over the smooth skin and then looked up at Ruby. She was smiling again.

"See?" Ruby asked. "I told you so. Take off your other bandages now."

Sam, still too stunned to speak, removed the bandages that Dean had applied. His hands…his arms…they were perfect.

"How?" Sam managed to ask as he pushed himself back up the wall to standing. He felt his energy returning quickly.

"When you stop holding onto your _human_ limitations, you WILL be unstoppable. Lilith and anything else that stands in your way will have NO chance, " Ruby explained.

"This is crazy!" Sam yelled, his mind reeling.

"Is it really so hard to believe, Sam? You know us demons can heal ourselves, keep our human shells going indefinitely despite _any_ injuries, even fatal ones. You need to let it go," Ruby advised as she wiped the knife on her jeans and slid it back into the sheath hidden under her jacket.

"Let _what_ go?" Sam asked.

"You know," Ruby answered.

Sam's head jerked to the window when a car door slammed in the parking lot. When he looked back to Ruby, she was already gone. Sam sighed in frustration. He had so much more he wanted to ask her about, but in true Ruby fashion, she always left him wanting more. Sam put the bandages back on his hands and arms and after taking off the bloody shirt, balled it up and shoved it to the bottom of his duffle. Definitely too much information to share with Dean just yet.

_**The next morning…**_

Sam continued to pace the motel room, as he had been doing since Ruby left. Dean hadn't come home and hadn't returned his multiple calls to his cell phone. They all went right to voicemail. Not good. Sam knew he had messed up, but how could he apologize if Dean wasn't even going to give him that chance? Sam looked out the window for the millionth time when he finally saw the Impala pulling into the lot. Simultaneously, Sam breathed a sigh of relief and his heart rate sped up. A minute later the motel room door swung open and Dean strode in.

"Hey," Sam said in hopeful greeting.

A glare was the only response his older brother gave him before heading to the bathroom. Sam heard the shower turn on a moment later.

Sam turned back to resume looking out the window, anger boiling up inside of him again. It was going to be a VERY long day. He had enough to deal with without having to worry about Dean being mad at him. He deserved it, but he again missed being able to talk to his brother. Sam knew it had been a VERY long time since they had both been really honest with each other.

Sam forced his thoughts to turn from Dean to the events of last night. What happened with Ruby…Sam wasn't sure now if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he could heal himself. Sure, not having to worry about being seriously hurt or dead was a plus...but he _was_ sure that it was one more step closer to the demon side of the line. What else could he do if he simply willed it to be so? How much farther would he go…c_ould_ he go? What if…what if he did go dark side and out of control…who would be able to stop him then? Of course, on the flip side...if he didn't go postal....nothing would stand in his and Dean's way to making the world a safer place. One more obstacle out of the way...

Sam again felt _completely_ alone. As his mind continued to race, he wondered if maybe he would go crazy before this was all over. Oh, the stories he could tell them in the psych ward. No one would believe that they were actually all true...

Not being able to stand it anymore, Sam spied a pen on the desk and jammed it into his leg. He muffled the yell as the pain commanded his attention, all other thoughts about his fate and Dean instantly gone for the moment. After Sam pulled out the plastic object with a sickening suction sound, he wiped the blood on his jeans and put the pen back on the desk. He hobbled over to the bed, hissing from the sharp pain, and sat down. Again he closed his eyes, willing his body to heal itself. Just as before, the pain stopped a moment later. Sam stuck his finger in the new hole in his jeans to feel nothing but undamaged skin.

Sam decided that maybe this new ability wasn't so bad after all.

**Okay, so I couldn't help writing this chapter while working on my other ones. I apologize to the readers of my other stories, but this chapter practically wrote itself! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Then…**_

_Sam forced his thoughts to turn from Dean to the events of last night. What happened with Ruby…Sam wasn't sure now if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he could heal himself. Sure, not having to worry about being seriously hurt or dead was a plus...but he __was__ sure that it was one more step closer to the demon side of the line. What else could he do if he simply willed it to be so? How much farther would he go…c__ould__ he go? What if…what if he did go dark side and out of control…who would be able to stop him then? Of course, on the flip side...if he didn't go postal....nothing would stand in his and Dean's way to making the world a safer place. One more obstacle out of the way..._

_Sam again felt __completely__ alone. As his mind continued to race, he wondered if maybe he would go crazy before this was all over. Oh, the stories he could tell them in the psych ward. No one would believe that they were actually all true..._

_Not being able to stand it anymore, Sam spied a pen on the desk and jammed it into his leg. He muffled the yell as the pain commanded his attention, all other thoughts about his fate and Dean instantly gone for the moment. After Sam pulled out the plastic object with a sickening suction sound, he wiped the blood on his jeans and put the pen back on the desk. He hobbled over to the bed, hissing from the sharp pain, and sat down. Again he closed his eyes, willing his body to heal itself. Just as before, the pain ebbed and then stopped all together a moment later. Sam stuck his finger in the new hole in his jeans to feel nothing but undamaged skin. _

_Sam decided that maybe this new ability wasn't so bad after all._

_**Now…**_

**Chapter 3**

_**That night…**_

Sam stood in front of the bar that was a half mile down the road from their motel and pondered his options. Go inside the small not so inviting building or go back to their motel room to continue to wait for his brother to return. Dean was away, doing God knows what, so the depressing motel room where Sam had been alone with his thoughts for the past thirteen hours held absolutely no appeal. Dean hadn't asked him to go along, so Sam wondered if it had something to do with the angels. And if that was true, Sam wasn't surprised he wasn't invited. He wasn't a welcome member of _that_ club anymore.

Sam also toyed with the idea of stealing a car to drive somewhere, but where could he go when it was his _mind_ that he was trying to get away from? With a shake of his head at the futility of it all, Sam pulled open the heavy windowless door and stepped inside.

_**Three hours later…**_

Sam was angry. No. Scratch that. _Pissed_. He was drunk off his ass, his wallet was somehow seventy five bucks lighter, and he felt no less anxious or self loathing. Sober or drunk, his mind wouldn't let up…wouldn't let him stop thinking about anything for even just _one god damned minute_. Grabbing his half empty beer bottle off of the counter, Sam stumbled off the stool and headed for the bathroom. After he finished guzzling the remaining liquid along the way, he lobbed the bottle at the large open trash can in the corner once he was inside the bathroom. He missed and it shattered on impact with the wall, raining caramel colored glass onto the dirty tile floor. Sam laughed, not caring that the guy who was finishing up washing his hands gave him a dirty look before hurrying out of the bathroom. Sam shrugged his shoulders and tottered over to the wall to drop down to the floor and gather up the glass. He hissed when one piece caught his palm, nicking it. Suddenly, the urge to cut himself, to feel the distracting ecstatic release of pain, took hold of him like a dog with a bone. Sam snatched a large piece with a particularly sharp looking edge, leaving the others on the floor, and rushed into the lone toilet stall. After slamming and locking the stall door behind him, he dropped onto the closed toilet seat and studied the thick shard. He pushed up his sleeve with his free hand and decided to go a bit more drastic than he had before. _Really_ see what he could do. He yelled into his shoulder to muffle the sound as he jabbed and raked the glass against his wrist repeatedly as deeply as he could. As before, Sam was soon rewarded with the quick shift in focus from his problems to his pain, his mind instantly blank of it's previous caucophony of thoughts.

Sam smiled when he felt nothing else but the intense agony of the gash as he watched his red blood seep down his arm and onto the floor. He quickly gouged the other wrist over and over and yelled again into his shoulder. Heart pounding and breathing heavy, Sam slumped against the side of the stall. He wondered how long he could go…how long he could wait…until he healed himself this time. He decided to wait a few more minutes and then a few more as he relished his mind that screamed of nothing but pain. Finally, Sam decided that it was time to heal himself and closed his eyes in concentration. With confusion, Sam realized nothing was happening! Pain continued to radiate unbearably from his wrists and terror now gripped Sam as well. He tried again to concentrate, but realized too late something he didn't figure on. The alcohol was likely clouding his ability to succeed in his task. Without even thinking, Sam's first instinct was to call Dean. With shaking hands, he pulled out his cell phone and hit number one to reach his brother by speed dial. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, Sam finally heard his brother's voice.

"What?" Dean asked impatiently. "I'm busy, Sammy."

"Dean," Sam slurred. "Sorry."

"For what?" Dean asked, his tone conveying his confusion. "What happened?"

"Don't…don't hate me, 'kay?" Sam asked as tears of frustration leaked out of his eyes.

"What? _Sam_! What did you do?!" Dean demanded.

"I can't…fix it. So much…blood," Sam explained desperately, unaware that his words were together now.

"What happened? Where are you?!" Dean asked anxiously.

"Wha', Dean?" Sam asked, the mix of alcohol, pain, and light headedness making it near impossible to concentrate on his brother's words.

"Sammy! Talk to me!" Dean demanded.

Sam dropped the phone then, his hand no longer complying with the simple task of grasping the object. Sam left it on the floor where it landed, deciding that he needed to direct all of his attention to getting out of the stall. After a few seconds of fumbling with the lock, Sam finally managed to get the door open. He stumbled over to the sink, feeling oddly cold and shaky now, to turn on the water. He washed it over his wrists, cursing at the pain the sensation caused. Still the blood flowed freely, mixing with the water as both trailed down the sink. Sam thought next to wrap something around his wrists, but saw nothing clean and dry to use. He yelled out as he pressed his wrists against his shirt that was already splattered with red. Giving up now, Sam instead focused on his reflection in the mirror, turning away from it only when someone burst into the bathroom.

"Hey! Someone said you threw a bottle in here and I heard yelling-," the man yelled before the rest of his words got caught in his throat at the sight of Sam and the blood.

The man rushed out of the room as Sam dropped to the floor.

_**The next day…**_

"Mr. Sampson?" a nurse called into the ER waiting room from a hallway to the right.

Dean looked up and quickly bounded over to the woman in annoyingly bright pink scrubs.

"Follow me, please. Dr. Christopher would like to speak with you," she explained.

"Lady, I just drove like a madman for hours non-stop to get here. I do _nothing_ and talk to _nobody_ until I see my brother," Dean insisted.

"You will. Please, the doctor just wishes to talk to you first," she replied without offering any further information.

"Can you at least tell me what happened?" Dean asked as he followed her quick stride down the hall.

She smiled, but said no more. Dean suppressed a not so nice comment and continued to follow. After about two minutes, she paused at a closed door. She knocked and announced through it that she had Mr. Sampson with her. Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and motioned Dean inside, shutting the door behind him. Dean looked quickly around what he now saw was a small medical office, bare of decorations except for an crookedly hung outdated looking abstract painting on one of the stark white walls hanging above a large metal desk that was covered in papers and medical charts. Behind the desk sat a middle aged Caucasian man with short graying hair in a long white jacket who quickly stood and extended his hand. He smiled, but looked far from relaxed to Dean.

"Hello. I am Dr. Christopher. Please, have a seat," he said before sitting back down.

Dean nodded, deciding that he would give him one minute before again demanding to see Sam.

"Your brother was admitted here late last night, as you know when your brother asked us call you on his cellphone. He has since given us permission to also discuss his health and well being with you. I won't mince words, Mr. Sampson. Sam's condition is of great concern to us. So much so that we feel it warrants not only medical, but inpatient psychiatric treatment," the doctor explained.

"Wait, what?" Dean asked.

He was _not_ expecting to hear that.

"Does your brother or anyone else in your family have a history or suicidal behavior?" the doctor inquired.

"No! No," Dean denied. "What the hell is going on? What happened to Sam?"

"Not what happened _to_ your brother. What _he_ did to _himself_. He tried to kill himself by slitting his wrists, quite savagely actually," the doctor explained. "He was not agreeable to voluntary commitment, so we have had to do so involuntarily. Do you know what that means?"

"Wait a freakin' minute here!" Dean yelled as he stood up.

"I know this is a lot to take in and any information you can offer for his medical record about his mental status as of late would be very helpful to us and to his successful treatment," the doctor continued.

"Committed? You can't do that!" Dean implored angrily.

"Yes, we can," the doctor clarified. "Please, Mr. Sampson, sit down. Let's talk about Sam, okay?"

Dean stared at the doctor's weary, but kind face and decided to sit back down in the chair. Sam tried to kill himself? Impossible…right? Dean's thoughts raced to the other night when he had redressed Sam's wounds after his brother reopened them for God knows why. Sam had said it made him feel better. That couldn't have anything to do with now…had Sam been trying to tell him something then? Had Sam tried to kill himself now?

"What happened exactly and call me Dean," Dean finally said, despite his mind still racing.

"Your brother was discovered in the bathroom of a local bar. He was fairly intoxicated, but admitted that he had slit his wrists. He used a piece of glass from a beer bottle he broke," the doctor explained. "He was unable or unwilling to tell us why. Not yet, anyway."

"This is crazy. Sam would never do that," Dean insisted.

"So there is no history of mental illness or suicide attempts?" the doctor asked as he opened up a medical chart and pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket. "Well, then how about a history of cutting behavior?"

"Cutting behavior?" Dean asked.

"Self-cutting is a type of self-injurious behavior that often begins as an impulse. However, many discover that once they start to cut, they do it more and more, and can have trouble stopping. Many who self-injure report that cutting provides a sense of relief from deep painful emotions. Because of this, cutting is a behavior that tends to reinforce itself. Cutting can become someone's habitual way to respond to pressures and unbearable feelings. Many say they feel 'addicted' to the behavior. Some would like to stop but don't know how or feel they can't. If your brother is cutting and it went too far, rather than attempting suicide, he still needs our help. Help us give it to him by providing us with the information we need. Please," the doctor explained.

"I want to see my brother _now_," Dean stated through clenched teeth, deciding that he no longer wished to indulge this man any longer. "And then we are both getting out of here. We don't need anyone's help."

He needed to get the facts and his brother was the only one who had them.

"Dean, whether or not you believe in the benefits of mental health treatment, the fact that your brother has been involuntary committed will not change. Although such an action may seem harsh or unnecessary to you, it was deemed necessary to keep your brother safe and ensure that appropriate treatment is administered. The maximum initial time for involuntary commitment is usually 3 to 5 days. Your brother will be reevaluated during that period and following that period as he receives treatment. If Sam is not discharged on or before the 3 to 5 day limit because additional treatment is necessary, a court order may be sought to extend the involuntary commitment. He has a right to seek counsel and fight the involuntary commitment at this juncture if so desired," the doctor explained.

"So you _are_ going to keep my brother against his will?" Dean asked.

"Not _keep_ him, Dean. _Treat_ him," the doctor asked, still sounding annoyingly patient and kind to Dean.

Dean sighed.

"Let me first talk to my brother before we go any further with this, please?" Dean asked, doing his best to keep his emotion in check or they might not let him see Sam at all.

"Sure, you got it," the doctor agreed.

About ten minutes later, Dr. Christopher and Dean had walked in silence to arrive at the psychiatric ward which was actually housed in a newly built free standing building on the far side of the hospital's campus. After the doctor cleared Dean to enter the facility at the front desk, he beeped them through a number of locked doors by pressing his ID to the security sensors. Dean was surprised at the interior. It wasn't what he pictured a psychiatric facility to look like. Hell, Dean thought, if it wasn't filled with crazy people, he would have chosen to stay here over their crappy motel rooms any day.

"Follow me. They just finished eating lunch so he's likely in the main meeting area now, waiting for group to start. They don't have much free time, and it's not normal visiting hours, but we'll squeeze you in for a few minutes," the doctor explained. "If he continues to display good behavior, his privledges will increase. For now, he, like any new admissions, start at the bottom. No phone calls, no flexibility with his schedule and activities, and limited visitation. There are good and bad consequences for one's behavior, an important concept for many people here to learn and grasp when returning to the real world setting."

Dean nodded as if agreeing, while knowing that he would be taking Sam out of here the first chance he got.

The doctor hung back as Dean walked toward his brother who was sitting on a tan couch in a large meeting area as the doctor predicted. Dean felt instantly sorry for how he had acted lately toward Sam. But something else bothered him even more. What if someone or something else out of Dean's control was driving his brother to act like this? Or what if, God forbid, Sam _was_ crazy? After all the crap they've seen, Dean couldn't blame him.

"Sammy?" Dean said as he sat down next to Sam and put his hand on his brother's shoulder, startling him.

"Dean! Thank God! Get me out of here!" Sam implored as he pulled at Dean's shirt.

Dean was glad to see that his brother looked unhurt anywhere else except for his bandaged wrists. Sam's eyes flashed fear and exhaustion, as well as relief at finally seeing Dean.

"Hands to yourself, okay, Sam?" A man asked gently from nearby.

Dean turned around to see a man standing in the corner of the room watching them.

"My watch dog. I'm under suicide watch," Sam scoffed. "Isn't that crazy?"

"You are in the psych ward, dude. Before we do anything, tell me what the hell happened? They think that you tried to kill yourself! You get so drunk that you let someone jump you in the bar?" Dean asked quietly as to not allow anyone else to hear their conversation.

Dean watched Sam's face as he seemed to run through the recent events in his mind. Dean knew he remembered at least something when his little brother's eyes looked down at his wrists.

"I wasn't jumped," Sam said.

"Well, then who did this and how?" Dean asked, confused now.

"I…I did this," Sam said as he continued to look down at his wrists, avoiding his brother's eyes.

"What? Why?" Dean asked, again remembering what Sam did to himself in the bathroom.

"Because I wanted to," Sam answered.

"You _wanted_ to? What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked. "I'm trying here, Sammy. I really am. Please try and make some sense."

"It makes me forget things. I can focus on the pain and everything else leaves my mind," Sam answered simply.

"Forget what?" Dean asked.

"Everything else," Sam repeated.

"So you _did_ try to kill yourself," Dean said matter of factly, feeling like someone punched him in the gut with the realization.

"No! No. Not _kill_," Sammy clarified. "I can do something new now. I know you don't like it, me using my abilities, but this one is a good thing! I can heal myself of _any_ injury by just _thinking_ about it!"

"_What_?" Dean asked in confusion. "Are we on Candid Camera here?"

"No! It's true! Ruby-," Sam began.

"Ruby? Son of a bitch. I should have known the black eyed whore was involved," Dean muttered.

"Whatever you think of her, it doesn't matter. She's helping me. Showed me how to do it," Sam explained. "Just think of how useful it will be while we're fighting demons or whatever else gets in our way to helping people or stopping the apocolypse!"

"Uh, huh," Dean answered in a way that indicated to Sam he was not quite believing him.

When Sam followed to where Dean's eyes were looking, he understood why.

"Oh, this?" Sam said while he rubbed his wrists. "I found out that alcohol blocks my concentration to heal myself."

"And I'm supposed to believe that you're still drunk now?" Dean asked.

"No, but the drugs they made me take are making it too hard to concentrate to heal myself either. But you believe me, right?" Sam asked desperately, continuing to speak when Dean didn't answer. "Look, we can talk more about this later. Just get me out of here and when the drugs wear off I'll show you."

Dean shook his head and stood up, a game plan suddenly forming in his mind.

"No," Dean said.

"No to what?" Sam asked as he stood up as well, confused.

"Maybe this is right where you belong. I don't understand what's going on with you, can't help you. Maybe they can," Dean answered.

Sam began to laugh and then quickly stopped when he realized that Dean wasn't laughing with him. Wasn't joking.

"You _can't_ be serious!" Sam said.

"As serious as a heart attack. Or cutting one's wrists," Dean said. "Just stay here for a few days, okay? See what they have to say."

"Bullcrap! You hate doctors!" Sam seethed.

"I hate you hurting yourself even more!" Dean countered.

Sam studied Dean's face for a moment when a realization hit _him_ like a punch in the gut.

"This is just all convenient, isn't it?" he asked the older Winchester sarcastically.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"You go off for hours and don't tell me where. I bet it was with Castiel. Something is going down, isn't it? And you and the angels want me out of the way! When are you all going to see that I am an _asset_ in _preventing_ the apocalypse, not a catalyst?" Sam insisted angrily.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise that he quickly tried to hide.

"Sam, that's not it at all," Dean protested before standing up. "I'll come back tomorrow and we can talk more-."

"F you!" Sam yelled as he stood up and then shoved Dean so hard he stumbled back and almost lost his balance. "Just go then! I'll get Ruby to get me out!"

The aid and another two men suddenly descended onto Sam, blocking his path to his brother and holding him back with a gentle, but strong hold.

"Good idea, Sammy," Dean said sarcastically. "Messing with her's the reason you're here in the first place!"

"You best leave now, son," Dr. Christopher advised. "I'll call you later with an update, okay?"

Dean watched, torn, as the men pulled Sam back from lunging at him again. If Dean was scared before, he was terrified now. Sam had never acted like this before. Dean felt completely helpless. He turned to leave when Sam's tearful voice stalled his feet and he turned back around.

"_Please_, Dean. Don't leave me here," Sam begged desperately. "I'm unprotected here!"

"We will keep you safe, Sam, from whatever inner demons you have until you learn to face them," Dr. Christopher said.

"Not _inner_ demons," Sam responded, knowing Dean knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You know as well as I do that you can protect yourself," Dean reminded him, remembering Sam's ability to yank demons out of their human hosts.

As difficult as it was to do, Dean started to walk again, not even turning around to look back. He didn't want to see the look on his little brother's face.

"YOU SELF-RIGHETOUS BASTARD! WHAT MAKES YOU SO MUCH BETTER THAN ME? THAT I SHOULD BE HERE AND NOT YOU?" Sam yelled.

That one hurt, Dean thought, as he headed for the door, knowing Sam was referring to his _far_ from good mental health and binge drinking behavior that he had displayed before after returning from Hell. Dean finally did turn around, only in time to see the men dragging his brother away, not an easy feat twith Sam's size and skills.

"Where are they taking him?" Dean asked Dr. Christopher.

"To what we call the quiet room. We will attempt to calm him without medication, but will administer it if necessary. Don't worry, Dean. We do this all the time. Your brother is in good hands. I promise I will call you later and we'll talk some more, okay?" the doctor asked with another kind smile.

Dean nodded, still a bit in shock, and left.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Then…**_

"_Please, Dean. Don't leave me here," Sam implored. "I'm unprotected!"_

_"We will keep you safe, Sam, from whatever inner demons you have until you learn to face them," Dr. Christopher said._

_"Not inner demons," Sam responded, knowing Dean knew exactly what he was talking about._

_"You know as well as I do that you can protect yourself," Dean reminded him, referring to Sam's ability to yank demons out of their human hosts with this mind._

_As difficult as it was to do, Dean started to walk again, not even turning around to look back. He didn't want to see the look on his little brother's face._

"_YOU SELF-RIGHETOUS BASTARD! WHAT MAKES YOU SO MUCH BETTER THAN ME? THAT I SHOULD BE HERE AND NOT YOU?" Sam yelled as he lunged in Dean's direction._

_That one hurt, Dean thought, as he continued to head for the door, knowing Sam was referring to his far from good mental health and binge drinking behavior that he had displayed when returning from Hell. Dean finally did turn around, only in time to see the men dragging his brother away, not an easy feat with Sam's size and skills._

"_Where are they taking him?" Dean asked Dr. Christopher._

"_To what we call the quiet room. We will attempt to calm him without medication, but will administer it if necessary. Don't worry, Dean. We do this all the time. Your brother is in good hands. I promise I will call you later and we'll talk some more, okay?" the doctor asked with another kind smile._

_Dean nodded, still a bit in shock, and left._

**Now…**

**Chapter 4**

"I'm not answering any more your freakin' questions. I _know_ I don't belong here! I've been to college, I've taken intro. Psych courses. Just…just let me out of here, okay?" Sam asked, doing his best to suppress an unbearable desire to punch the calm look off right off of Dr. Christopher's face.

Sam _didn't_ want to _want_ to hurt anyone and this violent impulse shocked him for a moment, but he merely chalked it up to the surge in adrenaline as a result of the events of the last half an hour. Being caged in the damned quiet room next door like a misbehaving dog had not helped his mood either.

"Sam, I'm realize that you're angry and it will take time to process why you are here, but although you've taken introductory psychology courses, I'm a psychiatrist. Have been for over fifteen years and I feel that you _can_ benefit from being here if you only give it a chance, no matter how short or long your stay," the doctor replied calmly.

Sam opened and closed his fists in frustration. This guy was harder to crack than a demon.

"Then at least let me go back to my room and be alone in peace!" Sam seethed as he crossed his legs and played with a loose thread at the cuff of his jeans.

Quickly losing interest, Sam uncrossed his legs and then stood, deciding that pacing the floor may keep him calm enough until he got away from this guy.

"Feeling antsy?" the doctor observed. "Might be a side effect of your new medication regime. I can adjust-."

Sam didn't tell him that he wasn't go to take any more medication from here on out. He was done with that too.

"There is _one_ thing you can do for me, doctor," Sam decided.

"Yes?" the doctor answered.

"Remove my brother as an emergency contact…and I no longer want him having access or input regarding my medical care," Sam replied.

"Sam, your brother-," the doctor began.

"Left me here!" Sam finished angrily as he crossed his arms.

"Family is an important social support in times of-," the doctor began again.

"My brother left me here!" Sam snapped harshly, cutting off the doctor's words.

"What about other family members? Your parents?" the doctor inquired.

"Murdered," Sam answered quickly.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. That must have been very difficult-," the doctor began.

"Screw you!" Sam yelled, increasing his pace of the back and forth motion.

"Maybe you find support instead in a girlfriend?" the doctor asked, remembering from Sam's medical chart that he wasn't married.

"She was murdered too," Sam replied again.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, but his eyes never left Sam's face. Sam knew he was likely assessing his grasp on reality. Sam didn't blame him.

"Go ahead and ask my brother if you want. He'll confirm their deaths. And I don't have any friends, either, so don't bother asking. Never did, except for college. We…I move around too much for that," Sam explained.

"You enjoyed college," the doctor commented insightfully.

"Yeah," Sam agreed as precious memories of those years and especially of Jessica flooded into his consciousness. "Best time of my life."

"Because you had friends?" the doctor guessed. "Because you lived in one place for a while?"

Sam felt tears in his eyes as he looked out through the small window of the psychiatrist's office, and instantly hated that he was losing control again, especially in front of this guy. Those two reasons the doctor guessed were a big part of it, yes. But they were both possible for only _one_ reason.

"Because I was free," Sam answered softly as the memories began to suffocate him now and his chest felt so tight that it almost hurt to breathe.

"Free from what, Sam?" the doctor inquired. "Or is it free from whom?"

"From everything! I only had myself to take care of! I didn't have to worry about if what I was doing was the right thing…if…if what I was doing was going to get someone hurt or…or worse!" Sam explained as he began to pace again.

"Tell me more about how what you do hurts other people," the doctor gently requested.

Sam shook his head. He had already said too much and marveled at the doctor's gentle way of getting him to talk. He absently rubbed his hands over his bandaged forearms. The compulsion to hurt himself, to relieve the pressure, was getting unbearable now. He wanted SO bad to be numb again, to again suppress how he had been responsible for Jessica's death. For SO many deaths.

"I want to go back to my room," Sam repeated, trying to keep any desperation out of his voice. "_Please_."

"Alright, Sam. You can go back to your room until the next group starts," Dr. Christopher finally agreed. "Thank you for talking with me today. I hope you found it as helpful as I did. We'll continue this later."

Sam nodded and rushed out of the room, continuing to absently rub his forearms. He wasn't surprised to see an aid waiting to follow him. Damned suicide watch.

* * *

An hour had passed since Dean left Sam inside the psychiatric ward and still he had been unable to make himself turn the ignition and drive away. Guilt and fear tore away at his resolve to leave Sam in there for his own good. Was it for _Sam's_ own good? Dean shook his head in frustration and put his hand on the door handle to get out of the car and go back inside when…

"You did the right thing, Dean," Castiel said suddenly from the passenger seat.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Dean exclaimed after startling in his seat at the unexpected appearance of the angel. "Will you _stop_ doing that!"

"You have important work to do. You need to focus. Sam has chosen his path, and I assure you it is _very_ different from yours," Castiel continued with his usual serious tone and expression.

"I'm still mad at you for not beaming me here Star Trek style after the hospital called about Sam. I wasted _hours_ driving!" Dean yelled.

"Your brother was not gravely injured, so time was not an issue. I also hoped it would give you time to reconsider leaving to come here. Now, I must return you to our mission. It can wait no longer," Castiel decided.

"A big N…O. How about that, Cas?" Dean decided. "My brother is in a freakin' psych ward. Can I have a minute to think?"

"You may have a minute," Castiel agreed as he sat back in the seat to wait.

Dean rolled his eyes at the angel's apparent lack of grasp of his sarcasm.

"I didn't mean _literally_! I need some time to figure out what to do about Sam," Dean clarified.

"No," Castiel replied with another classic glare. "If this seal is broken, it could ignite a chain reaction that may be impossible to extinguish."

"I'm not going ANYWHERE until-," Dean began to assert when a bright light filled his car, forcing him to shield his eyes. When Dean opened them a moment later after the brightness subsided, he saw that he was now alone and then with a jolt realized the surroundings outside the car windshield had DRASTICALLY changed.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled.

* * *

Sam again glanced over at the open doorway as he paced back and forth in the narrow path between his bed and the other furniture of his private room. The aid was still there. Didn't the guy _ever_ take a break? Sam smashed his fists on the top of the dresser, hoping it would relieve at least some of the anxiety and pain that was _way_ past unbearable. It didn't. Sam knew he _had_ to take more drastic measures, but the medication prevented him from healing himself. If only the damned meds would wear off already, then he would be alright. He could do what he needed to do and no one would have to know. Everything was fine before he got here. And the damned security in this building made it impossible for him to get out without taking a hostage. He didn't want to have to resort to that and again wished that people would just leave him the hell alone.

Sam knew what he had to do. He needed to get back to the chaotic ER, and when the doctors were done tending to whatever injuries he could inflict on him with what they let him have in the room here, he'd bolt. The hospital security was probably pathetic and with his expertise, he could escape there in his sleep. Sam again slammed his fists on the dresser. Again, it did little to make him feel better, but it had the desired effect on the aid.

"Sam, please don't do that," the man warned from the doorway before he took a step foward. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Sam decided as he walked over to the man. "You can wait _outside_."

In a lighting fast move, Sam shoved the aid hard. The man tumbled out of the doorway into the doorway and fell to the floor, knocking over another patient in the process who began to yell. Sam took full advantage of the distraction. After yanking the door closed, he shoved his bed and dresser over to block the door. A moment later, the aid began to knock on the door, calmly asking Sam to open the door and let him in. Sam ignored him and didn't waste any time in using his trained eye to look around the room to find a weapon. There were no mirrors in here that he could break, not even a toothbrush or pen that he could stab himself with. But a dresser drawer...now that would do quite nicely.

As Sam quickly yanked out a dresser drawer, the commotion outside his doorway increased. He didn't pause though as he threw the drawer against the wall. Nothing happened. Sam cursed and picked it up and heaved it at the wall again. This time it broke into four pieces. Sam looked over at the door to notice that they had succeeded in budging the door a couple of inches. He knew he was almost out of time. Sam grabbed one of the pieces, broke it into a smaller piece with his foot until he could get a metal piece free from the side. Victory!

Sam looked at the piece in triumph for a moment before he pulled his arm back and forcefully stabbed it into his upper thigh. Sam screamed at the intensity of the pain and then smiled as it overpowered and washed away the other feelings that were close to incapacitating him. He pulled it out with some effort and watched the blood stream down his leg to pool onto the floor. He was breathing hard now through the pain and his heart was racing, but he felt _so_ much better that he felt compelled to do it again, although one was surely enough to win him a trip to the ER. Sam raised his hand to stab himself again when the door suddenly pushed open enough and Dr. Christopher squeezed through.

"Sam," Dr. Christopher said as he slowly walked closer and his eyes looked from Sam to the metal piece to the blood on the floor. "Can we talk? Just you and me. Everyone else is waiting outside."

Despite the pain that now made his legs weak and head dizzy, Sam laughed at the look on the doctor's face. He must really think he was crazy now. He just didn't understand. No one did.

"I've talked enough," Sam said, his arm still poised to stab himself in the leg again.

"Can you please put that down and let me talk then?" Dr. Christopher asked gently. "I'm sure you realize that you're really not helping your case that you don't belong here. And if you're hoping a trip to the hospital will make it easier to escape, you're wrong about that too. Even if you get past hospital security that we will have posted outside the ER, we will send the police to find you. You have a committment order to be here."

"Why can't you just let me be? It's my body!" Sam yelled, his hands beginning to shake now.

"Sam, is hurting yourself the _only_ way you feel better?" the doctor asked. "Because I assure you, I can teach you other ways, better ways. You don't have to do this. Often when people feel depressed, it is due at least in part from a chemical imbalance. The medications that you are on may take a couple of weeks until you feel any relief and four until you feel the complete effects, but it will be worth it. You-,"

"There is a lot more wrong with me then a chemical imbalance in my brain," Sam muttered, thinking about the demon blood coursing through his veins that he will never be able to expunge.

"Tell me about it. Tell me why you feel there is something wrong with you. Is someone making you feel this way? Is it just recently or have you felt this way since you were young?" the doctor asked.

Sam finally dropped the metal piece to the floor with a clatter before looking down at his bloody hands and leg. He was shaking so bad all over now that he knew he had to sit down before he passed out. He stumbled over to the bed and fell onto it before answering. His plan to break out seemed so preposterous now. What the hell was he doing? Who was he becoming?

"It's not recent. I've…I've just _always_ been a freak. My brother can confirm that for you too," Sam answered.

"_Does_ your brother tell you that, Sam?" the doctor asked. "Does he tell you other things that make you feel bad about yourself? Does he ever hit you or do other things that mentally or physically hurt your?"

Sam laughed again at the doctor's insane questions.

"Dean hurt _me_?!If you're asking if my brother mentally or physically abuses me, the answer is no! That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! My brother Dean has always protected me. He's the _only _one who has ever protected me!" Sam implored.

"Then why is it so hard for you to believe that he wants you to stay here to get _better_, not to punish you?" the doctor asked.

Sam sighed. He had walked right into that one.

"You're good," Sam admitted.

"So they tell me," the doctor joked with a smile. "Now, let's get you patched up. As soon as possible, we'll get you back here and really get at the root of issue, okay? You don't have to do this anymore."

Sam didn't know why, but he felt as if he was beginning to trust this man and nodded in agreement, too spent to argue or fight any more anyway, and let the doctor call other staff and a nurse inside the room.

"Oh and Doctor?" Sam said before the man left the room.

"Yes?" he answered.

"I..uh...I want to keep my brother listed as my contact," Sam said.

"Sure, son, I wouldn't have it any other way. Too much paperwork to change it," the doctor joked.

* * *

Five hours later, Sam was awake, but very groggy. It turned out he had needed minor surgery and was admitted overnight for observation before he could be release back to the psych ward. Sam slightly turned his head to look out the window at the night sky and wondered for at least the hundreth time where Dean was and what he was doing. But mostly, he wondered if Dean was alright. It killed him that his brother was off somewhere with no one watching his back. He certainly didn't trust the angels to do that. Actually, he didn't trust _anyone_ to do that. Sam sighed and turned instead to look again at the almost hypnotic dripping of the morphine into his IV and his thoughts again melted away. Now _this_ drug, Sam was happy to have right now. His heavy eyelids began to close again when he felt a burning sting on his arm. His eyes popped open to see a hand holding his IV that had been obviously ripped out of his arm. He looked up from the arm to the blue scrubs of a nurse and then to the nurse's face.

"I have some better medicine for you than this right here," the nurse said with a smile as she held out her arm.

Sam gasped. It was Ruby!


	5. Chapter 5

_**Then…**_

_Five hours later, Sam was awake, but very groggy. It turned out he had needed minor surgery and was admitted overnight for observation before he could be released back to the psych ward. Sam slightly turned his head to look out the window at the night sky and wondered for at least the hundreth time where Dean was and what he was doing. But mostly, he wondered if Dean was alright. It killed him that his brother was off somewhere with no one watching his back. He certainly didn't trust the angels to do that. Actually, he didn't trust __anyone__ else to do that. Sam sighed and turned instead to look again at the almost hypnotic dripping of the morphine from the bag on the metal pole into his IV and his thoughts again melted away. Now __this__ drug, Sam was happy to have right now. His heavy eyelids began to close again when he felt a burning sting on his arm. His eyes popped open to see a hand holding his IV that had been obviously ripped out of his arm. He looked up from the arm to the blue scrubs of a nurse and then to the nurse's face._

_"I have some better medicine for you than this right here," the nurse said with a smile as she held out her arm._

_Sam gasped. It was Ruby!_

**Now…**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked and then smiled, strangely amused how slurred his words sounded.

"I should ask you the same thing," Ruby said as she turned to the closet and yanked his clothes off of the hangers. After tossing them into a heap at the foot of his bed, she added, "Sorry that I wasn't able to get here sooner, but it took me that long to understand it all…why we have to get you out of here right now. The party's already started without us, but being fashionably late never goes out of style."

"Party?" Sam asked as he looked at his shirt that Ruby next shoved at him. Wasn't he already dressed?

Ruby watched Sam study the shirt and threw her hands up in disgust. Without asking she began to shove his arms into the sleeves before haphazardly buttoning it closed, not even bothering to first take off his hospital gown.

"The party that your brother's angel pals don't want you attending. Which I find _so_ very amusing, since you are the ONLY one who can accomplish the job," Ruby continued as she roughly pulled his legs over the side of the bed.

"OW!" Sam yelled.

"Stop being such a princess!" Ruby demanded. "Now, by the time we get there, the drugs will be out of your system. Then you can have a drink on me, _literally_, and be as good as new."

"I am as good as new," Sam said as he rubbed his leg. "They said I'll be ready to go back to the psych ward by tomorrow."

"Guess I did miss alot," Ruby said as she shook her head. "Look, do you want to help Dean or not?"

"What do you mean? Is he in trouble? What did you do?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"After all this time, you still doubt my loyalty?" Ruby asked with a twirl of her long hair around her finger. "Get your head out of your ass and let's just go already. I'll explain it all on the way."

"And if I don't?" Sam asked.

"A seal will break and it will be all your fault. Dean can't prevent it from breaking without you, despite what the angels think," Ruby responded.

Sam studied her face for a moment, wondering if he would ever be able to tell if she was being truthful. Probably not. With a sigh, Sam sat up anyway. He'd give her the benefit of the doubt one more time.

* * *

Dean scanned his new surroundings through the now rain streaked windows of his Impala. It was night...no stars...he was on some indistiguishable road...no street signs or recognizable landmarks that he could see...he could be anywhere. Damn Castiel!

Dean jumped when a rap on the driver's side window startled him.

"Get out. This is the right place," Castiel said before he turned and began to walk towards a rundown bar across the street.

Dean sighed and got out. Now he was really confused, but at least he could get a beer.

"So what the hell are we doing _here_, Cass?" Dean asked as he looked around the small, poorly lit bar. "This place is shady…even for me."

"Shady?" Cass asked with a look of confusion. "There are no trees as we are _inside_ a dwelling-."

"No. Um. Let me put it another way. Shifty, seedy…," Dean began to offer other adjectives until he saw that the angel still looked confused and offered up another explanation. "Not full of good Christian folk who seek no better path in life than to serve the Lord."

"Ah. Exactly," Cass answered.

"Exactly…what?" Dean asked in confusion.

"Purchase two beers so we don't look suspicious and then join me at a table so we may continue conversing," Cass said as he headed for an empty one on the right side of the bar without waiting for Dean's response.

"Riiiiiiight. A beer in your hand is really going to keep _you _from standing out," Dean muttered as he watched the trench coat clad man sit down and wait.

"Why are we here? Does one of these oh so lovely patrons have a demon all up in him?" Dean asked after he returned with the two beers.

"Pick," the angel said with a serious glare.

"Pick...what?" Dean asked, getting real tired _real_ fast of how difficult it could be to communicate with Castiel.

"Not what…but _who_. I need you to pick someone and then...kill him," Castiel answered matter-of-factly.

"_Excuse_ me? Why the hell would I-," Dean said before looking around and then lowering his voice. "…kill someone?"

"To prevent the breaking of this seal. It must be done and done soon. Time is running out. Surely it will be easy for you to choose as this place is full of unsavory citizens," Castiel stated.

Dean glared at the angel for a moment as he tried to make sense of the words.

"What the HELL are you talking about?" Dean hissed. "I am TWO seconds away from walking right out that door!"

"The only way to prevent the breaking of the seal is for you, a human, to kill another human as they, the demons, have already sacrificed one of their own during a very specific ritual. If you don't kill someone, to counteract what they have already set into motion, we will fail and the seal will be broken," Castiel explained.

"That doesn't make sense," Dean said.

"Unfortunately, the demons have found a what you call 'loop hole'. If the demons had killed a human as expected, all we would have had you do is kill a demon during a ritual to prevent the seal from breaking. I know you…hesitate when killing humans is involved…so I thought taking you here would make it easier," Castiel said.

"You thought wrong!" Dean replied angrily. "I'm not just going to kill an innocent person!"

"As I said, Dean, no one here is innocent-," Castiel stated.

"You know what I mean!" Dean hissed back. "And how long have you known about this? About what I'd have to do?" Dean asked after gulping down some beer in a vain attempt to calm himself.

"Not long. I knew what they had done, but not why or how to stop the seal from breaking. Until I consulted with another angel," Castiel explained. He took a gulp as well, in an obvious attempt to copy Dean, oblivious to Dean's shaking his head at how ridiculous the angel looked in doing so.

Dean sighed.

"Tell me everything," Dean demanded.

"Then you will kill someone? It is estimated that you only have another twenty four hours-," Castiel replied.

"Just…just talk!" Dean exclaimed before taking another swig of beer.

* * *

**_The next night..._**

**_"_**This is wrong," Dean said as waited with Castiel in the shadows near the rear of the bar for just the right victim. "I can't do this! I can't just kill someone in cold blood!"

"Sure you can," Castiel assured him.

"There has to be another way!" Dean insisted.

"There is," Dean heard Sam say from somewhere off to his right.

As soon as Dean turned his head toward the sound, Sam and Ruby emerged from seemingly out of nowhere.

"Sam! What the hell are you doing here and what the hell is_ she _doing with you?" Dean demmanded angrily.

Castiel stiffened, as did Ruby, as the pair circled each other.

"Down, boy," Dean said to Castiel before turning back to Sam. "Sam, I want you to get your ass back to the hospital-," Dean began.

"Just hear me out, Dean!" Sam implored. "_I _am the answer! I was always the answer, although for some reason, Castiel here didn't want you to know that!"

"What are you talking about, Sammy?" Dean asked before turning to the angel. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

Dean paused for a moment as he studied the angels' face.

"You _do_ know what he's talking about!" Dean yelled.

"I can do it, Dean," Sam insisted. "You don't have to kill someone else."

"Do what?" Dean asked as he watched Ruby who had taken up a position behind Sam. Too close to his little brother for Dean's liking. Almost like the proverbial demon on his shoulder.

"Tell him I can do it!" Sam yelled at Castiel.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Dean yelled.

"I already told you that I can heal myself. From any injury," Sam reminded him. "Ruby explained to me that I can take it farther than that. That I can die and come back, just like demons can. And in this case, my dying will keep the seal from breaking and no one _stays_ dead."

Dean's eyes widened as he tried to process Sam's words.

"Not this again!" Dean exclaimed. "And you-," Dean yelled as he charged towards Ruby. "You need to stay the hell away from my brother...filling his head with this crap! Right, Cass?"

Dean turned to look at the angel for confirmation. His stomach tightened when the angel looked away instead.

"Castiel! Tell him that she's wrong!" Dean insisted. "That he can't do what she says!"

"I'm sorry," the angel replied. "I should have confirmed your brother's new ability, but it did not seem wise."

"Did not seem _wise_?" Dean repeated with a humorless chuckle.

"Because he didn't want to admit that Sam is the one whose going to save the day this time!" Ruby chimed in as she edged closer to the angel. "Doesn't exactly fit with your anti-Christ theory, huh?"

"Keep your distance, demon!" Castiel warned before turning back to Dean. "If Sam were to do this, die and then bring himself back, he will be changed forever. Into what, we are not exactly sure, but it will not be good."

"That's crap!" yelled Ruby. "You just don't want to admit that the all mighty angels might need help from someone who you deemed unworthy!"

"Dean, _please_. You know me. I can handle this if I say I can. You know you can't kill anyone in cold blood and you know we can't let this seal break. This is our only chance," Sam implored. "Let me do this."

Dean ran a hand over his face as he turned away from the group. After taking a few steps, he paused and turned back around.

"How does it work? Tell me exactly!" Dean hissed at Ruby.

"His part demon blood when mixed with my full demon blood, gives him healing properties as strong as any full blooded demon. And he is all full up right now and ready to go," Ruby explained.

"Dean, you cannot be considering this!" Castiel exclaimed. "Her role in getting your brother involved is not by chance!"

"I need to be clear about something first, Sammy," Dean said. "Is your offering up yourself really about the seal or is it about you feeling you deserve the ultimate punishment and pain of death?"

Sam sighed.

"I won't deny that I have a lot of guilt about alot of things... and that hurting myself did make me feel better. But I know that what I was doing was just an excuse to bury what I was feeling. An out for the pain. I won't do it anymore...not after this. I'll find a better way to deal with everything...But I'm not sorry that Ruby showed me what I can do. I need...I _have_ to learn everything about myself that I can. The good and the bad. At least now...now my demon blood can be used for something good."

Dean sighed and looked from Sam to Castiel.

"He will not be the same if he goes this far, I cannot even promise that he will be your brother anymore. This is exactly what the demons want. You must know that, Dean. Why they chose _this_ seal. They want your brother. They've always wanted your brother," Castiel said to Dean.

"Maybe. But they haven't gotten him yet and they're not going to. If Sam says he can do this, I'm going to give him that chance. Everyone deserves to choose their own part in this demon war," Dean finally decided. "But there is one condition."

"What?" Sam asked.

"She's gone. Right now. And no more secret visits or behind my back conversations. You're done with her," Dean said.

"Dean, I need her to help me to-," Sam began before Dean cut him off again.

"Your choice, Sammy. Her or me," Dean replied.

Sam paused, looking from his brother to Ruby.

"Deal," Sam agreed. For now, anyway, Sam thought but did not say outloud.

"No!" Castiel and Ruby both exclaimed together, although for obviously very different reasons.

"You want the seal saved? Then this is how it's going down. Simple as that," Dean said to Castiel.

"Well...then...do you remember the ritual? In order for the seal to stay intact, it must be done immediately after you-," Castiel reviewed.

"I got it," Dean cut him off, not wishing to hear the words "kill your brother."

Castiel nodded, gave one last glance at Ruby and vanished.

The trio stood in silence for a moment before Ruby turned to Sam.

"You know what? I'm not going to get too upset about this newfound buddy buddy crap with your brother," Ruby said. "It won't be long before he's treating you like a helpless child again. And when he does? Well, I'll be waiting to teach you more things that only you can do to stop Lilith."

"You're wrong," Sam said. God, he hoped Ruby was wrong.

Without another word, she too was gone, leaving the two brothers alone in the eerie alley.

"You can't trust her," Dean reminded Sam.

"I know. You can't trust Castiel either," Sam reminded Dean.

Dean smiled.

"True. So where does that leave us?" Dean asked.

"Do you trust me?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Dean replied without hesitation.

"Then here," Sam said as he held his gun out.

Dean looked at Sam and then at the gun.

"I'm supposed to just kill you _now_? Just like that?" Dean asked.

"It's just temporary," Sam reassured him as he continued to hold out the gun for him.

Dean took the gun and felt the weight of it in his hands.

"I don't want to... hurt you," Dean said softly, still unable to say the words 'kill you."Not even temporarily."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said as he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the impending immense pain. With a small shock, he realized he was not looking forward to the pain this time. That he didn't need to feel the pain anymore to feel better. Having a brother like Dean was his salvation. Always was and always will be.

Dean held out the gun...

"Do it," Sam whispered as he closed his eyes.

A tear slipped down Dean's cheek...

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered back as he leveled the gun at his little brother's chest.

"I know," Sam replied as a tear slipped down his cheek as well.

Dean pulled back trigger and fired.

* * *

**Sorry I posted an old version of this chapter last night by mistake. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this correct version, I will finish the story so stay tuned! You don't want to miss the next chapter!**


	6. Chapter 6

_**ATTENTION: IF YOU READ CHAPTER 5 THE FIRST NIGHT I POSTED IT, PLEASE READ IT AGAIN BEFORE THIS CHAPTER, AS I POSTED AN OLD VERSION OF CHAPTER 5 FIRST AND DID NOT CATCH IT AND FIX IT UNTIL THE NEXT DAY. THANK YOU. **_

_**Then:**_

_"I don't want to... hurt you," Dean said softly, still unable to say the words 'kill you."Not even temporarily."_

_"It's okay, Dean," Sam said as he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the impending immense pain. With a small shock, he realized he was not looking forward to the pain this time. That he didn't need to feel the pain anymore to feel better. Having a brother like Dean was his salvation. Always was and always will be._

_Dean held out the gun..._

_"Do it," Sam whispered as he closed his eyes._

_A tear slipped down Dean's cheek..._

_"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered back as he leveled the gun at his little brother's chest._

_"I know," Sam replied as a tear slipped down his cheek as well._

_Dean pulled back trigger and fired._

_**Now:**_

**Chapter 6 (From Each Brother's Point of View)**

_**Sam**_

Death in real life is_ nothing_ like death in the movies or on T.V. There is no graceful falling to the ground, no sad but beautiful music, no perfect length of time before you die to poetically whisper your last wishes to your loved ones, no peaceful and painless drifting away as if you are simply falling asleep…

No.

Death is ugly, messy, and hurts like a son of a bitch.

Sure I've been shot before. Even died before...but I don't remember anything from the time Jake stabbed and killed me and I've never asked Dean what it was like to watch me die. I didn't want to know. Now I'm glad I didn't want to know, because maybe I would have gotten cold feet tonight.

After the bullet slams into my chest so hard that my teeth rattle, I recoil back and crumple to the ground like a rag doll. My breath is gone for a moment and then it starts...a slow burn that snakes through me…like when you drink coffee that's much too hot and you feel it all the way down…before my insides turn into ice...and it's_ cold_...feels so cold that I think my teeth begin to chatter.

Then the other shoe drops.

Pain is too nice of a word and I writhe around on the pavement in vain.

A moment later I feel Dean gently pulling my head onto his lap, even covering me with his jacket, but it's of little comfort. I open my eyes for a moment to look up at his tear filled ones and can see that he's saying something to me, but I can't hear him. The whining in my ears is too loud.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out but blood.

Oh God…Oh God…please let me die already. What is taking so damn long?

With a flash of realization, I remember I have to do what Ruby taught me to do...to control it..or all of this would be nothing and I'd stay dead.

Wouldn't that just suck?

I close my eyes…will myself to calm down and go still.

I feel Dean stroking my head now, and I focus on his touch to make my heartbeat slow down…

go slower still…

and slower.

I can _feel_ it finally coming.

Death.

And I welcome it.

* * *

_**Dean**_

As soon as I fire the gun, I regret it. I don't care about the seal. Why do I care about the damned seal? Or why didn't I at least kill some dumb schmuck from the bar instead? I quickly click on the safety to the gun and drop it to the ground. But I'm not quick enough to catch Sam as he crashes to the ground. Not again. How can I go through this again? Watch Sammy die?

I pull his head into my lap and cover him with my jacket, reminding myself that it's only temporary. That he promised he would come back...but I can't stop my tears. The pain…I never could stand to see him in pain…

But I look anyway. I owe him that much to keep his eyes on mine…to do my best to comfort him with my words...

Although I don't even know what the hell I am saying.

It is so damned hard to concentrate.

I wish it was me.

I would trade places with him in a heartbeat.

Why can't I be the one with the cursed abilities?

With a sigh, I finally stop talking; I can see it coming from the look in his eyes.

After all, I've seen a lot of people die.

I know I have to stay focused and hope that he remembers no pain when he comes back…because he will come back, of course.

And hope that he's still Sammy when he comes back. Hope that Castiel was wrong. It would be so much easier if I believed in Ruby like Sam does. But I don't. She is a demon after all, even if she has a prettier face than most of them.

I watch him go still until he is not moving at all, and stroke his head as I feel his thundering heartbeat start to slow as well.

Any time now...

And a moment later…

It's done.

I lower his head to the ground…gently... and push his eyes closed just as gently.

I wipe away my tears so I can see as my shaking hands fumble in my pocket for the ritual written in Latin on a small slip of paper to make sure it is there. It is. I quickly pull off my button down shirt that I have over my t-shirt. Gagging and willing myself not to throw up, I dip it in Sam's blood and draw the symbols around his body that Castiel showed me, hoping that I remembered them right. Sammy always had the better memory…and the better Latin. Really the best hunter I know...

When I'm done, I pull out a small velvet drawstring bag containing a special powder that Castiel put together for the ritual. I sprinkle it over Sammy, wondering what in it makes it glitter when the light of a nearby street lamp hits it.

Finally, I am ready for the reading of the ritual. Hoping I am saying all of the words correctly, I chant it like Castiel showed me. Fifteen minutes later, with a flash of light as the powder goes up in smoke, I am done.

I look down at Sammy, who still looks very much dead.

I sit down next to him and wait.

**Stay tuned! Only one more chapter to go! Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Then**_

_(Dean's POV)_

_I lower his head to the ground…gently... and push his eyes closed just as gently._

_I wipe away my tears so I can see as my shaking hands fumble in my pocket for the ritual written in Latin on a small slip of paper to make sure it is there. It is. I quickly pull off my button down shirt that I have over my t-shirt. Gagging and willing myself not to throw up, I dip it in Sam's blood and draw the symbols around his body that Castiel showed me, hoping that I remembered them right. Sammy always had the better memory…and the better Latin. Really the best hunter I know..._

_When I'm done, I pull out a small velvet drawstring bag containing a special powder that Castiel put together for the ritual. I sprinkle it over Sammy, wondering what in it makes it glitter when the light of a nearby street lamp hits it._

_Finally, I am ready for the reading of the ritual. Hoping I am saying all of the words correctly, I chant it like Castiel showed me. Fifteen minutes later, with a flash of light as the powder goes up in smoke, I am done._

_I look down at Sammy, who still looks very much dead._

_I sit down next to him and wait._

**Now**

**Chapter 7**

_Whomp…whomp…whomp..._

"Did it work?" Sam croaked, his mouth dry and eyes still closed, just assuming Dean was somewhere nearby.

"You feeling okay now?" Dean asked from somewhere close.

Sam was confused by the trepidation in Dean's voice.

"I...I guess so," Sam answered raspily, wondering what had happened after he died and then obviously came back.

"Because you really scared me, Sammy. That's twice in one week. And you damn well know that I _don't_ scare easily," Dean reminded him.

_Whomp…whomp…whomp..._

His eyes still closed, Sam took a deep breath while he acclimated himself to his surroundings and identify the strange sound. He felt something soft beneath him and a blanket over him, pulled up to his shoulders. Sam could also feel a pillow under his head and the palms of his hands resting against cool sheets.

_Whomp..whomp…whomp..._

A moment later, Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked up. A fan in the ceiling was turning at a slow pace, making the _whomp_ sound that had first woken him. Ah, Sam thought. He recognized this place. It was Bobby's panic room.

"What happened?" Sam whispered after he turned his head to look at Dean.

"You came around about an hour later, but have been in and out of it for three days now. Don't you remember any of that?" Dean asked in surprise.

Sam shook his head no, and again tried to swallow away the dry feeling in his throat.

"You want to tell me about that?" Sam asked in a raspy voice.

"Not really," Dean said as he headed over to a table on which was a pitcher of water and a glass and began to pour.

"What, did I confess embarrasing secrets or bark like a dog while I was delirious?" Sam joked, hoping to break the obvious tension.

"No," Dean answered stoically as he walked the glass over to Sam. "You were...uh...screaming alot. It was...it was pretty bad and no matter what I did...it didn't...nothing helped."

"Oh, I don't remember that at all," Sam reaffirmed quietly, sorry that he put his brother through that.

"Well I do," Dean said seriously. "And let's just leave it at that. Can you sit up?"

"I think so," Sam said and did, although not very gracefully, and then took the glass.

After gulping down the water, Sam again turned to his brother.

"Why am I here in _this_ room?" Sam asked, hoping Dean would at least tell him if he had done anything more out of the ordinary while he was out of it.

"Strictly a precaution," Dean answered honestly. "Until we know for sure that-."

"That I'm still me?" Sam said to finish his brother's sentence as felt his chest where the bullet had hit him.

Sam was not surprised to find that there was no wound.

"Are you?" Dean asked.

Sam looked up at his brother and almost laughed. Dean was standing across the room again, next to where a shot gun was propped up against the wall...almost as if…

"Are you…are you _actually_ afraid of me now?" Sam asked with a smile at the preposterous thought.

Dean didn't answer right away, and appeared to be studying Sam. And Sam didn't like it one bit.

"Do what you need to do, then! Whatever test I need to pass to convince you that I'm okay!" Sam implored as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Already did while you were out of it," Dean replied. "Nothing."

"That's great!" Sam exclaimed until he noticed his brother still looked wary. "That's not enough…is it?"

"I don't know. Bobby and I…we just don't know," Dean answered as he began to pace the room and still to Sam's dismay, staying his distance.

"Dean," Sam said as he tentatively stood up and found his legs to feel strong beneath him. "I've always been…different. You and Bobby both know that."

"This is…this is beyond anything that I've ever seen you do before and you know it! And Ruby? All buddy, buddy with that demon bitch behind my back, even after I told you to stay away from her?" Dean answered.

"I told you I was done with her AND you said you trusted me!" Sam yelled. "I would never have done it if I had known that it would change how you thought of me this much!"

"I didn't think it would!" Dean yelled back as he ran a hand over his face. "But now-."

"What?" Sam exclaimed, his heart racing. "Say it."

Dean sighed.

"I'm…I'm going to let Bobby know that you're alright," Dean said instead as he hurried for the door.

"No!" Sam yelled as he grabbed his brother's arm and swung him around. "We finish this now! It's about time we talked about the elephant in the room."

Dean shrugged Sam off and backed away, but did not again move for the door.

"My biggest fear, Sammy," Dean explained before he gave a big sigh. "Is not that you will be killed by a demon or something else that we hunt because that's a risk for any of us hunters. But I am scared…_terrified_…that I will lose you to yourself…to the evil that's in your blood."

Dean paused, and Sam sat back down on the bed.

"Dean-," Sam said gently.

"Let me finish," Dean insisted before continuing. "That the more you do that is NOT human…the farther you will get from me and one day...one day I won't be able to pull you back. I realize that I should have been there for you more...so that maybe Ruby wouldn't have taken advantage of you in the first place. That maybe you wouldn't have...hurt yourself to feel better. AND I know that we had to stop the seal from breaking. That it was our job. I _know _that. But…_God_…how _far_ will it have to go? How far will _you_ have to go? The price for me is just too high. I don't...I don't want to be faced with what dad told me I might have to do."

"You mean kill me. You think this is what he meant," Sam said softly. "If I do things using my abilities?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Just…_please_…I need you to promise me. _Really_ promise me that this is _it_. NO more. From this point on…if you can't do it as a human…I don't want you doing it at all. NO matter what. We'll just have to find another way," Dean answered.

"So you promise to not keep me in the dark anymore about seals or anything else, even if Castiel asks you to?" Sam asked in clarification.

"Yes. I shouldn't have tried to protect you by keeping you out of it. It sure as hell backfired on me, didn't it? But you still have to promise me. Right now," Dean insisted.

Sam looked at his brother, and for the first time in awhile, maybe not since Dean came back from hell, he could see it.

Dean was at his breaking point.

"Okay, Dean," Sam finally agreed. "I promise."

"Good," Dean said with a nod of his head. "Good. I'm going to get Bobby now."

"Sure, okay," Sam said as he continued to wait on the bed.

After Dean left the room, Sam sighed, wondering if Dean too could tell that _that_ promise was one that Sam might _not_ be able to keep.

"Hey, Bobby?" Dean said as he entered the living room a moment later. "Sam's okay now, so if you want to go down and-,"

"Sam's 'okay' now?" Bobby repeated in disbelief. "Is that what _he_ thinks too? Even after you told him what he did down there when he was out of it?"

"I...I told him he was screaming alot and it was bad," Dean said before pausing a moment as he got temporarily lost in the horrible memory.

_"It hurts, Dean! My blood! It's burning me inside! Stop it! Please! Dean! DEAN!"_

"And he didn't seem to mind not hearing more," Dean continued, avoiding the older man's gaze, knowing exactly what Bobby was getting at.

"_He_ didn't want to hear more or _you_ didn't want to tell him more?" Bobby accused as he charged over to Dean. "He deserves to know! To know that he was flinging things around the room...that his eyes kept going black..and...and yelling at us in a dialect that I've never even _heard _of!"

"No! He's passed all of our tests, his eyes look normal, _and_ he's talking and moving around just fine! None of that matters now!" Dean insisted.

Bobby sighed and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Jamming your head in the sand isn't going to make it any less true, son. I'm glad Sam's fine. Hell, _more_ than glad. But...I hope you realize that your denying it, isn't going to change what's inside of him...what he may become someday no matter _what_ you do to try and stop it," Bobby said.

"I know. But for now, he's still Sammy and that's good enough for me," Dean answered.

"Some day he might ask again about exactly what happened and when he does? Tell him," Bobby said. "Once you start keeping secrets from each other again, well then, won't you be right back where you started?"

It was Dean's turn to sigh now, knowing the older man was right.

**The End**

**Thanks for reading this story! Hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to review and check back soon as I will soon resume working on my last remaining Supernatural story.**


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